Twenty Four Hours
by skittery's bad mood
Summary: His last day living...What could Skittery possibly do to make it his best?


Disclaimer- I do not own Newsies. That's all.

A/N- This is challenge seven, I believe, to write a story about one of the characters last day living, so here it is.

Twenty four hours

Skittery sat quietly on his bed. Every one of the news boys had already gone to bed about three hours ago. It had to be midnight, at least. He looked at each of the figures of the boys lying peacefully in their beds. He knew who each one was and knew them so well it was as if they were all brothers. He could tell any stranger that wanted to know about any of the boys, anything they wanted to know, right down to what they talked about in their sleep. He sighed; he had a past with each of them. He watched Racetrack roll over in his bed, and listened to Snitch quietly sucking his thumb. He knew each boy like the back of his hand.

He pulled his rather small and colorful blanket up to his face and rested his head in it. It was soft, and he loved it so much. In fact, it was pretty much the only thing that he really did love. He would miss it very much. He began to realize that he would miss a lot of things about this place. He acted like he didn't care, he acted like he could care less if all of New York was destroyed, the way he complained about everything. But in fact, he loved this place, he knew it so well and he loved everything about it.

He pulled his blanket, or "square" as he liked to call it, over his head and lay back onto his flat pillow, he would miss sleeping in this bed. He would miss listening to the other boys falling asleep while he lay there, listening.

The truth was Skittery was dying. He could feel himself slowly dying. It scared him to think about it, he had known now for a long time. He remembered when he had first found out that he was dying. It was before he ran away and became a newsie, he had heard his parents talking one night when he had gotten sick, the doctor had told them that he had a disease and he would not live for very long. He ran away from home a little while later, he was afraid. His parents could not afford to have him die, they couldn't afford to get him a proper burial, and they were going to leave him to let him die one his own.

Skittery shivered he had been feeling worse and worse everyday for a while now, and he figured his time was coming to an end. After having saved up for the few years he had been a newsie, he was finally able to go see a doctor a few months ago. The doctor told him he was still sick and there was nothing he could do for him. The doctor had even let him keep his money.

While Skittery recalled all of his past experiences, sleep over took him and he drifted into an uneasy sleep. He was woken up early the next morning by Kloppman, like he always was. He groaned and rolled out of bed, nearly missing crushing Specs, who slept under him.

"Hey, watch it Skitts!" Specs cursed dodging Skittery's feet.

"Sorry, Specs, I didn't see ya deah," Skittery said quietly. Specs looked at him, his brows furrowed.

"You okay, Skitts?" he asked. Skittery nodded and made himself busy at the foot of his bed pulling his shirt off of the post. Specs eventually left. Skittery watched him leave, he couldn't help but remember the first time he had ever seen Specs.

It had been one of those days for Skittery when all he wanted to do was be alone and be in his favorite mood, bad. He had been sitting in his favorite gloomy part in the park sulking and hitting the grass with his stick he always carried around for such occasions. As he sat there and did this, a ball came flying at his head, and before he could duck out of its way, the ball smacked him in the side of the face. The next thing he knew, a young looking boy with dark hair and small glasses was at his side asking him if he was alright, no one had ever really cared if they had hit Skittery with anything. Even the passing ladies in the market never said a word to him when their baskets accidentally made contact with his head. None of the newsies either did this for him, and yet, here was this strange kid, helping him to his feet and being polite.

Skittery snapped back to reality when Kloppman yelled his name once more. He pulled his shirt over his head and made his way to the wash room, where half of the other boys were already taking showers, or washing their faces. His head began to pound the more he walked, he had to slow his pace down a bit in order to keep from blacking out. It was getting worse. He winced straining his eyes to keep them from going cross.

"You okay, Skitts?" Jack pounded a hand onto Skittery's back. His eyes bulged and he grabbed onto the wall for support.

"Yeah, I'se okay, you okay?" he said grabbing a hanging towel by his hand to make it look like he was clutching the wall for a purpose.

"Nevah bettah," Jack rustled Skittery's hair as he passed him.

Jack had always been a great friend to Skittery, he was actually the very first newsie boy who actually liked him, and he was the only one who didn't care if he was always grumpy. He had always stuck up for him when the other boys used to pick on him because of his moods. Jack was like the older brother he never had. He had invited Skittery to live in the lodging house with them and he had even paid for the first few nights Skittery lived there. Of course, Skittery had to pay him back as soon as he got the money, but still, it was the thought that counted to Skittery.

"How many papers?" Skittery looked up into Weasel's reddening face, he wondered just how long he had been standing there. Weasel certainly wouldn't miss him if he died, just one less newsie to worry about.

"Ten please," Weasel gave him a face as if to say that he thought that the boy was insane for buying so few. Skittery didn't even know why he was bothering to sell in the first place. This might be his last day and he wanted to spend it working, but he figured it gave him something to do, he loved being busy. The papers were handed to him, and Skittery left the distribution line to meet up with Snoddy on the wall outside of the gates.

"Ten papes, Skitts?" Snoddy asked looking up at Skittery's small pile, "Hope ya ain't plannin' on eatin' or sleepin' in da lodgin' house t'night." He snickered.

Skittery shrugged, "Da headlines aint doin' good t'day anyways, I wouldn't sell much."

Snoddy cocked an eyebrow at his friend and pushed the front page of the paper into his face, "Baby carriage starts fiah and boins down city hall, what's not good?" he asked disbelieving.

Skittery smiled and shrugged. He loved hanging out with Snoddy, his best friend. No matter what, Snoddy always made him smile, even in the worst situations. The first time he had ever met Snoddy, he had been drunk in a bar and Snoddy walked him back to the lodging house after a fight he picked and lost with the bar tenders and his cronies.

The two boys went out to sell their morning papers, like they did every morning at eight. It was just an average day, to Snoddy. Skittery was feeling worse then ever when ten thirty rolled around. He began to break out in a cold sweat, his head pounded and his eyes blurred in and out of focus. Snoddy was around the corner selling his papers, so he didn't notice his friend. Skittery sat down against the wall in a shady alley and closed his eyes. He wished he knew exactly what he was dieing of, but the truth was, he didn't think the doctors even knew. He placed his head in his hands; he could feel his eyes begin burn. Snoddy had once told him that whenever he was upset about something, there wasn't any shame in crying. Skittery had once thought that this tip of his was something only sensitive people like Snoddy did, but now he wished he could just let it all out.

Throwing his papers behind an over flowing garbage can, Skittery clambered to his feet, swaying slightly once he was there. He walked slowly to where Snoddy was around the corner, keeping his eyes down, "Hey, Snoddy, I'm finished wit' me last papes, so I am goin' ta go, I need ta do some stuff."

Snoddy looked curiously at the top of his friend's head and shrugged, "shoah, Skitts, I'll see ya at da lodin' house latah t'day."

Skittery turned and left without a second glance. He hated ditching Snoddy when they sold, even if Skittery finished his stack before Snoddy, but he needed to do some things first.

"I don't got any money foah ya, Skittery," Snitch said calmly as if he was saying something he had practiced over and over until it was perfect.

Skittery shook his head slowly, trying to keep his eyes focused, "I don't want yoah money, Snitch."

Snitch turned to look at Skittery. They were standing in the alley a few blocks away from the Lodging House where Snitch usually went to smoke. The boy placed the cigarette back into his mouth and took a long drag from it, "Den what are ya doin' heah?" Smoke billowing, out of his mouth with each word.

Skittery grabbed Snitch's hand and shoved two dollars into the boy's palm. Snitch dropped his cigarette and gawked down at the bills in his hand, "What's dis?" he asked his voice hoarse sounding.

"Dat is a gift from me ta you," Skittery smiled, "Listen pal, I know I'se always borrowing money-"

"Stealin'" Snitch corrected quietly still admiring the money in his hand as if it was food and he had not eaten in years.

"Stealin' money from you," Skittery said rubbing his temples, he didn't see why Snitch was making a big fuss over this, it wasn't even money he earned, he stole it all, "I just wanted ta give it all back ta you."

"But Skitts," Snitch said, "Dis is two bucks; you don't owe me dat much, maybe like one, but not two." He went to hand one of the bills back, but Skittery grabbed Snitch's hand and closed it tightly around the bill.

"I wanted you ta keep it," he said, "now, I have ta go, if you see Mush, tell 'im I'se lookin' foah 'im." With that, Skittery turned and walked out of the alley.

"So dis is yoah favorite time a day den?" Skittery asked Tumble as they walked together in the park over looking a small lake.

Tumble nodded, "Yeah, everyday aftah sellin' I like ta come down heah and watch all of dem rich kids floatin' boats in da watah." Tumble smiled, his eyes searched the bank looking for any of those toy boats.

Skittery remembered a time when he used to do the same thing too, except he would either steal the boats or sink them, but he didn't think Tumble was capable of such torment. He put a hand on Tumble's head, "Let's take a seat ovah deah in da shade," he said pointing to a rather large tree which had a rather large shadow under it, and boy did Skittery need that shade.

Once they were finally comfortable underneath the tree's branches, Skittery leaning against the trunk, Tumble asked if he was alright with a concerned face

"Actually, I wanted ta give ya somet'in'," Skittery said opening his eyes. He looked at the little boy in front of him and remembered when this kid was the new one. He instantly had become attached to Skittery and he couldn't figure out why a sweet little kid like Tumble wanted to be around a bully like him, but he embraced the thought of being a role model.

"Oh boy, what is it?" Tumble asked excitedly getting into a new sitting position.

Skittery could have laughed, if he felt he had the energy. He grabbed for something behind him and handed it to the boy, whose eyes immediately bulged.

"Skittery, you can't give me yoah stick!" Tumble said backing a little away from the stick that made Skittery half of what he was. Skittery loved that thing almost as much as his blanket and he always made such a fuss and broke something when someone touched _his_ stick.

"No, Tumble, I want ya ta have it, I don't really need it anymoah." Skittery smiled, not a true smile like he was capable of, but it was a warming smile that he knew Tumble liked very much.

Tumble hesitated before reaching out and taking the stick as if it were a poisonous snake about to attack, "but why?" he asked bewildered.

Skittery grinned and grabbed onto a rather thick branch to pull himself up, he was beginning to think maybe he could still use that stick, "just t'ink of it as yoah Christmas present or somet'in'." He messed up Tumble's hair one last time before he headed away, Tumble stared amazed at the item in his hand.

Skittery sat down on some steps at a nearby bakery. He needed to rest. He was breathing very hard, he felt as though his lungs would explode. He had spent the afternoon meeting up with each of his friends, and apologizing for any scars or money he owed them that he had not yet paid up. He even asked Snipe Shooter if he would go down to Spot's place and give him back a gold chain he had stolen from him a long time ago.

"I'se got ta stop bein' so nice," Skittery panted, "It's killin' me fastah." He tried laughing to see if he could still make himself laugh at stupid jokes he made, obviously not right now. He leaned back against the brick wall next to him. Now all he needed to do was find Blink and everything would be done.

Finding Blink wasn't too difficult, but by the time Skittery had found him, the sun was setting. He had spent the last thirty minutes being sick in an alley garbage can. He began to feel even more nervous about dying then he had been. His legs were shaking uncontrollably under him, and his body was weak, not to mention that he was covered in sweat. Or maybe this was to be expected with the signs.

Blink was sitting in the alley by the Lodging House smoking, something he, as well as a lot of the other newsies, did a lot. Kloppman wouldn't allow it inside, so this was the next best thing. As Skittery approached, Blink stood up from the crouch he had previously been in to acknowledge him.

"Heya, Skittery," Blink said flicking at his cigarette.

"Hey, Blink." Skittery said quietly and took his place by Blink. This was their thing, every night they came out here together to smoke and tell jokes and have a great time. Skittery loved this almost as much as he loved selling with Snoddy. This was one of his most favorite parts of the day.

"Did ya go down ta Forty-fourth?" Blink asked handing Skittery the cigarette. Skittery reluctantly took it, but didn't smoke it, he wasn't sure if his disease was contagious. Blink didn't seem to notice that Skittery didn't take the drag though; he just continued to look on down the alley happily.

"No, why?" Skittery asked handing the cigarette back to Blink.

"Deah was da most beautiful goil deah," Blink laughed put the cigarette into his mouth, "Mush got all tongue tied and he didn't even know what ta say, ya should have been deah." He laughed harder as he recalled the situation to Skittery. "T'morrow you and Snoddy can come wit' me and Mush, she may still be deah t'morrow." He winked, or blinked, at Skittery, who couldn't tell the difference one way or the other, he figured that wasn't important though.

"Dat would be great," Skittery said quietly passing the cigarette back to Blink. He did wish he could, now that he thought about it, he didn't want to die, and he wanted to see this girl. He wanted to take more money from Snitch and not give it back, he wanted to teach Tumble how to push the rich boys into the lake! His eyes began to burn again, Skittery bowed his head and coughed, clearing his throat, "Blink, I have ta go, I'll see ya latah t'night."

Blink adjusted the strap on his patch as he studied his friend, "alright den, have fun." Skittery turned and walked out of the alley.

Walking in the cool night felt good for Skittery, even if his vision darkened and his steps wavered. The cool air blowing on him let him know he was still alive, for now. He could easily die with in the next few days, but the question was, was he really ready? He looked up into the sky where the giant clock was located on the tallest building. It showed about eleven o'clock. Skittery figured he would have to get going now; Kloppman would already probably make him sleep outside for being so late home. But when he got to the steps that led up to the Lodging House door, he stopped, he didn't go in.

He collapsed onto the stairs and buried his face in his arms. All at once the pain he had been holding in, not from the past day, but from the past three years came billowing out. He sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't want to die, he wanted to live a long life and watch things happen. He wanted to become an important man someday that could change the way people thought about the poorer people, like he had always dreamed. He wanted to beat up one more Delancy and leave a mark on him. He wanted to tell Snoddy that he was his best friend, and that he always had been.

Skittery coughed, choking on his tears, blood sprayed out slightly with each cough he released. It scared him now more than ever.

He wiped his eyes and stood up, still coughing, soaking his hand in a fresh layer of sticky red blood. Just before he closed the door behind him, he heard the clock somewhere to his left chime, symbolizing midnight.

Getting into bed was especially difficult for Skittery now, his chest burned and growled every time he moved; it felt cramped up, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Not to mention he was still coughing up blood. He was trying to be silent while doing this, which made the tasks even harder to complete. But finally he pulled himself up and lay down on his back; he pulled square up to his face and covered his mouth with it. It felt so comforting like this. He almost wished he could die just like this, with no pain, and square next to him.

He could hear Mush's snores somewhere around him slowly fading. He felt Specs roll over on the bunk under him. Snitch's thumb sucking grew louder and then fainter, and then stopped completely.

Snoddy coughed in his sleep somwhere. Skittery smiled, being able to hear Snoddy again felt good. He took a deep breath, but never let it out. If he died right then, at least he would know that he still would always have his friends. And when they woke up the next morning and saw him, they would know that Skittery really did care.


End file.
